


sweet talk

by WanderingCreep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Existential Crisis, Injury, Lost in Translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingCreep/pseuds/WanderingCreep
Summary: Whether it was grabbing Hinata’s head and threatening to squeeze it until it popped, or really subtle things like how they always managed to be sitting next to each other during practice, so close that their legs brushed against each other. So maybe the former wasn’t the most romantic argument in the world, but Hinata remembers his mother telling him back when he was in elementary school that girls were mean to you because they liked you.It was a stretch, but maybe that was just how it was for the both of them. Maybe that was just their language.Their own weird, warped sweet talk.





	sweet talk

**Author's Note:**

> started watching haikyuu! over spring break; safe to say the entire karasuno team owns my ass and i am in kagehina hell.

sweet talk

 

 

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely Hinata’s fault, and it didn’t matter what Kageyama said about it.

 

Drills after class as usual, that’s how it started.

The gymnasium doors are wide open to let in the spring air and a grateful breeze waft gently through the room.

Daichi had mentioned that Hinata needed to work on his receives, which, if Hinata was being honest, were still pretty abysmal, and who better to help him than Kageyama, like he didn’t have enough to do with the towering setter on a regular basis. It starts out pretty well, what with the third years giving him pointers from the sidelines, and Tanaka and Noshinoya boosting his morale from wherever they happened to be bouncing from. Hinata is slowly starting to get the hang of it; like, at least the ball is actually connecting more often than not, even if it does fly off to the left and right once it does make contact. It’s progress.

Could be better though.

Nishinoya is bouncing on the balls of his feet on the far left, waving his arms in the air with vigor. “Hinata! Square your shoulders! You’re too loose!”

Hinata isn’t too sure what that means, but he knows he’s got to do something. He takes a precious split second to adjust his arms in what he thinks is a sturdy enough stance, and another glance over at Nishinoya, trying to get some sort of confirmation that he’s doing _something_ right and that’s his downfall. In the moment that it takes him to look at Nishinoya and look back, the ball has come rocketing over the net from Kageyama’s side of the court and is coming straight for him.

Hinata just barely manages to get his arms in some sort of receiving position to catch the ball, just in time for it to bounce off of his forearms straight up and into his nose. Instinctively, Hinata jerks back, away from the offending object and lifts his hand to his nose with a squeak. The ball dribbles away down the court, and Hinata is sure that if it had been a living, breathing thing, it would’ve been smug.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as another stinging pain radiates through his nose. When he draws his hand back, he’s rather relieved to find that it doesn’t come away with red, and since they’ve seen that he’s not currently bleeding from his face, the others take it upon themselves to laugh freely at his most recent fuck-up.

“Try not to eat the ball next time!” cackles Tanaka, and of course Tsukishima and Yamaguchi collapse into a fit of giggles because they are literal gremlins who thrive on the suffering of others.

“Are you okay?“  Suga calls. “Focus next time! Keep your eye on the ball!”

Hinata winces at the waning sting in his nose, gives a thumbs up in Sugawara’s general direction. “Got it!”

“Get your act together, dum-dum,” says Kageyama from across the court.

Hinata’s jaw twitches as he reluctantly gets into position. “Shut up and toss! Why can’t you ever say anything helpful?”

He can see Kageyama’s face settle into something sour and particularly ‘Kageyama-like’, and a chill settles at the base of his spine. Immediately he tries to prepare himself for the fury that he knows is coming, a scathing reply or maybe a white-knuckled hand squeezing his head until it felt like it was going to pop -which Kageyama was wont to do on many an occasion.

Kageyama dribbles the ball once, twice, then tosses it into the air to serve. Already, Hinata can tell he’s going to regret this.

The ball crests, and Kageyama jumps to meet it. The sound of his hand against the rubber is akin to a gunshot, and the ball itself is a bullet headed straight for Hinata. It’s coming too fast, and Hinata isn’t ready to receive – he’s barely even in a proper enough position to execute the move- and he has no choice but to sidestep it, or let it plow into his face again.

The ball smacks against the wood floor, bouncing off the space where Hinata’s foot had been and rolls away harmlessly. Hinata watches it go, until it bumps against the wall, and then whirls back to see Kageyama glaring at him through the net.

“Don’t suck,” he growls, and was that really supposed to be helpful?

Hinata returns the glare full force – and inwardly curses that he can’t match the vitriol that Kageyama manages to muster up in his glares – and is maybe a split-second away from making some snappy comeback when Kageyama completely talks right over him.

“You hesitate too much,” he snaps. “Your form is god-awful and you can’t seem to focus on the ball when you actually do get into position.”

“I _was_ focused!” shouts Hinata, kicking at the ground sheepishly. “You just startled me, is all! How could I not be when you were making creepy faces like that!”

“If you were focused on receiving then you wouldn’t have room to be startled, idiot! And what was that; don’t run from the ball when you can easily receive it!”

Hinata flushed, curls and uncurls his fingers. “I-“

“Your speed is the best thing going for you, and it scores a lot of points,” Kageyama presses on. “But if you can’t even get past the basics of volleyball, how are you supposed to be a great player?”

A frosty silence descends over the gym, the last echoes of Kageyama’s voice fading away. Before the silence and verbal stinging has a chance to really settle, Kageyama is fishing another ball from the basket and bouncing it on the floor.

“Geez, Kageyama has no shame, does he?” Hinata hears from the sidelines. It’s Suga, because of course it is, mother hen that he was. “He could at least be a little more encouraging.”

Hinata breathes in and sets his jaw, stumbles back into position. No sense in being wounded by Kageyama’s usual sass and cutting remarks. Even if he was a bit on the nose – and kind of rude, really, _insensitive jerk_ – there’s not much outside of a half-hearted comeback to be said on Hinata’s part. Kageyama was right after all, _as per fucking usual_.

Hinata knew he struggled in certain areas of the game, and he was working on improving, but was he really working as hard as he could? He remembers the stories about Kageyama’s old team, thinks about how hard they must’ve trained in order to be able to keep up even somewhat with him. If Hinata was going to surpass the setter, then he was going to have to work even harder; it was like Kageyama said: his speed was the best thing he had going for him. He needed to strengthen everything he had to stay on par with everyone else and make sure he didn’t drag the team down.

Okay. _He’s got this._

“Okay,” he calls across the court, determination in place. “One more!”

Kageyama dribbles the ball, once, twice, then up it goes into the air.

And then, because the universe is conspiring against Hinata with all of its worth, everything goes to shit.

Kageyama is making the move to serve the ball, and Hinata swears he’s focusing on the ball and where it’s going to go, but the atmosphere shifts and he’s all too aware of it. Something comes rocketing into the gym from the corner of his vision, and it takes all of his effort not to break his attention and look for it.

A futile effort.

The figure is like a blur as it shoots across the gym, directly into the path of the ball and the net, right as Kageyama touches the ball.

Hinata hears him swear from where he’s standing, sharp and quick, and he shifts his body in midair, presumably to change the trajectory of his serve. And for some reason, Hinata’s brain doesn’t equate this to an unintentional mistake and stop himself from going after it.

Well, maybe pride has something to do with it, wanting to prove he could receive a serve that wasn’t coming straight for him.

But whatever the reason was, it was probably, definitely a stupid reason.

The ball veers to the left, and with it, goes Hinata. And because the universe finds enjoyment in fucking everything up for him, it decides to add a dash of irony into the mix.

Hinata comes to a sudden halt, the momentum carrying him dangerously forward, and manages to slide into a sloppy receiving form just in time to bounce the ball off of his hands and into the air.

It’s shitty and bounces straight up, but it’s better than anything Hinata’s done all day and at least the ball is actually in the air and not ricocheting back into his face. Part of Hinata is ecstatic; he caught the ball, he got it into the air. That’s a good enough receive for a setter to save it if need be; it’s a start.

The other half is screaming at him to right himself before he hits the ground. He’s in the middle of catching himself when he knows he’s fucked everything right up: his ankle twists, trying to pivot the weight of his entire body to keep him from falling, to keep him from landing flat on his face, he doesn’t know – and by the time he makes the decision to try and land on his back rather than his face, he’s already hit the ground.

Somewhere in front of him, Tsukishima makes a comment like ‘ _how graceful’_ , or something to that effect, and Hinata rolls onto his back, struggling into a sitting position in the same motion, witty retort dancing on his tongue, when pain suddenly chokes him.

Immediately, Hinata’s stomach drops. Pain meant something was wrong, sprained, broken, nothing good. And that meant…

“Are you okay?” Kageyama is ducking under the net and jogging towards him. “Why’d you go after that? I messed that up on purpose.”

Sugawara comes over, kneeling down to help Hinata up. “That was wild; that bird came out of nowhere! We probably should keep the doors closed so that doesn’t happen again, but it just gets so hot...”

 _Bird?_ Is that what that was?

Suga give him a frayed smile. “You hit it the ball at least. Good job on that.”

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama drops down in front of him, intense blue eyes boring into him. He really shouldn’t be as insightful as he is. It’s really not fair.

Hinata puts on a smile, hoping the fake plastic feeling doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m okay. No problem.”

Suga leans back and sighs. “You’re always getting beat up on the court it seems. At least you didn’t land on your face again.”

Kageyama is still looking at him, close enough that Hinata can see his reflection in his eyes. Hinata fidgets under his gaze, instead tries to focus on getting to his feet convincingly.

Kageyama frowns then. “Liar.”

Almost in agreement, a spike of pain shoots down Hinata’s ankle.

“It’s your leg, isn’t it?” says Kageyama, and Hinata has never wanted him to shut up more than he does now, because if he gets injured, he can’t play, and if he can’t play, he’s useless.  But Kageyama keeps going. “No use lying. I saw how you went down.”

Now Suga has heard, and Hinata immediately doubles his efforts to regain control of the situation. “No, it’s okay, really, I-“

“Kageyama, could you help Hinata to the nurse’s office? I think she should still be here,” Suga is saying, and Kageyama is nodding, and then they’re both taking Hinata’s arms and pulling him to his feet. It has become fair to say that Hinata is no longer in control of the situation.

“Take your time,” Ukai calls after them as they hobble out of the gym like some three-legged monster. “Don’t make it worse.”

Hinata grimaces inwardly as Suga hands him off to Kageyama. Don’t make it worse? Was that supposed to be a challenge to the universe or something?

Hinata and Kageyama manage to get halfway across the path between the gym and the school before he tries to wrestle himself out of Kageyama’s grip.

“I can walk,” he insists. “It’s not that bad.”

Kageyama scowls. “Will you just-“

He manages an entire step forward, Kageyama still reaching after him-

-“stop-“

-the second he puts weight on his injured ankle it buckles underneath him and he wobbles, threatening to pitch forward.

A pair of arms wrap around his waist, halting the fall before it really even starts.

Kageyama. Of course.

“Ukai said not to make it worse, idiot,” he hisses. “Why am I always the one stuck with babysitting you?”

Hinata stiffens. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t screwed up that serve!”

He doesn’t miss the way Kageyama’s face flushes. Regardless of whether he meant to or not, he didn’t like mistakes; fair play to throw that whole ordeal back at him. “I was trying not to hit that bird! And who told you to go after a wild serve like that?”

Whatever retort Hinata had coming gets trapped in his throat. His gaze drops to the floor between them, sheepish and stubborn. He’s not exactly keen on letting on about his insecurities, lest he get another earful from Kageyama about how stupid he was being. Staying silent is easier at least.

He hears Kageyama sigh, deep and tired, and then he’s suddenly acutely aware of the arms still around his waist – Kageyama’s arms, why were they still there? How long had they been there? – because he’s being awkwardly lifted into the air.

Hinata makes a strangled cry, something between a squeal and a yelp, and immediately wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck. _“What are you doing?”_

“Carrying you,” says Kageyama, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Hinata hates him for it. “You can’t walk on that ankle and we’ll never get to the nurse’s office at that speed.” To his credit, in true Kageyama fashion, he doesn’t look the least bit happy about having to carry Hinata, almost as much as Hinata is at having to be carried.

The nurse’s office is on the other side of the school, a good walk away from the gym. Hinata stays quiet the entire journey through the empty hallways, and against his better judgement, finds that this is actually kind of…nice.

If he’s being honest, he’s always kind of enjoyed the moments of quiet peace with Kageyama, moments like sitting on the steps outside the gym during breaks, sitting side by side, or half-asleep on the bus after visiting some school for a practice match. Even when they walked home with the others after practice, Hinata found himself singling Kageyama out from the bunch. It was a sort of reminder that there was more to the world than volleyball, and on a deeper level, more to _Kageyama_ than volleyball.

There was blue eyes and dark hair, hair that stood up sometimes with sweat when he ran his hands through it after a hard practice, hair that – now that Hinata was close enough to smell it – bore the scent of hibiscus and coconut. There were slender hands and long fingers, strong enough to make those amazing serves, but gentle enough that they didn’t hurt when they held onto Hinata now. And even rarer, there were smiles. Hinata could count the number of times he’d seen Kageyama smile genuinely on one hand, and each one was met with the same awe and uncomfortable edge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach each time.

Once, when they’d first worked out how to manage their freak quick set – it had been a giant, radiant smile that had felt like Hinata’s chest was full of molten iron – once when Daichi had bought them pork buns after practice – this one was small and appreciative and with it came warm thorns of envy – and once when Hinata had tripped and fallen in the gym while messing around with Nishinoya and Tanaka– understandable, but still small and meant to be unnoticed.

And Hinata had been jealous of all of them.

It was rather embarrassing to be jealous of a smile, but yet here he was, way past the point of dignity of his current situation was anything to go by. Envious that he hadn’t been the reason Kageyama had smiled. Like, _yeah_ , he’d tripped and fallen, and gotten the quick set to work properly, and Kageyama had smiled then, but it wasn’t the way he wanted the setter to smile at him. As pitiful as it was, he wanted him to smile fondly. Smile like he was happy to see him, like there were butterflies in his chest, like he was happy Hinata was there, and not because he was happy about what he was doing.

And there lay the problem.

Kageyama had smiled because of what Hinata _did_. What could he do with a busted ankle? He couldn’t keep Kageyama smiling if he couldn’t keep making quick sets and continue keeping up with him on the court – or at least _try_ to keep up in some cases.

_‘You’re the fastest on the team, and if you can’t learn how to use it in all aspects of the game then there’s no reason for you to be here!’_

An ankle that he couldn’t use was no good; that pretty much grounded him. His jumps, his speed, pretty much the best things about his play style –  out the window with a bum ankle. He was essentially useless. And it was kind of his fault. If he hadn’t tried to impress everyone, tried to prove that he could compare with everyone else, with Kageyama especially…

“You’re thinking a lot,” comes Kageyama’s voice, startling Hinata out of his thoughts. He says nothing more, doesn’t follow up on that; was that an invitation?

“Um,” Hinata mumbles. He eyes the hem of his t-shirt, debating whether or not to make the conversation. Maybe he can gauge the situation he’s in if he talks about it? God, this was so awkward.

“Am I a screw-up?”

Hinata blinks. What did he just say? That’s not what he wanted to say. At all. Kageyama doesn’t answer right away, so maybe he hadn’t heard?

“What the hell does that mean?”

Of course he says it like Hinata’s stupid, as usual, and it doesn’t really help.

Oh well. May as well ride this train till the end.

“If it turns out that I messed up my ankle really bad, and I can’t play,” Hinata has to force himself to speak the last part, like the idea of not being able to play is a chunk of metal lodged in his throat. He swallows. “Like, I dunno. What are you gonna do?”

He feels it when Kageyama shrugs. “Simple. We’re screwed as far as our quick sets go. We’d have to find a different way to win matches without a decoy.”

Hinata frowns, dread settling heavy in his stomach. “I’m not good at much else, am I? Anything that doesn’t involve my jumps or being a decoy.”

“Not really,” says Kageyama, and he says it so simply that Hinata knows he’s not being rude, just being honest, but it still kind of hurts. “You still suck at serves and you can barely receive. We really only need you for the quick sets.”

Geez, how in the hell did Hinata ever find this guy attractive? It was like he actively did everything in his power to make himself seem as big a jerk as possible.

“So I’m useless then…”

“Pretty much. But its not like its forever. You’ll heal, and then you’ll be back out on the court. It’s fine.”

“So you can use me for quick sets and then not trust me to do anything else, right?” His voice has an edge to it; Hinata makes himself breathe in and out. He’s getting angry, that’s the last thing he needs. But it wouldn’t be this way if Kageyama actually trusted him to help out in other ways on the court. Maybe he wouldn’t suck so bad at everything else if he just gave him a chance.

Kageyama actually looks at him now. Having those blue eyes fixed entirely on him is way more uncomfortable than having him not acknowledge Hinata’s being there before.

“What do you want me to say? It’s not like we need you anywhere else. You’re best at speed and keeping the enemy occupied. Even if you’re not good at anything else, you’re good at that. You and I score points almost indefinitely, and if you can score points, that’s all we need.”

God, that’s…not quite what he wanted to hear.

“So I guess you could say you are a screw-up, especially if you went and broke your ankle.”

 _What the hell, that’s even worse_.

“But if you weren’t there, the team would probably out of sorts. Like the atmosphere would be messed up or the feng shui would be off or something. Sugawara seems like the kind of guy who would be into that sort of thing.”

Hinata freezes. _Wait, what_? What did that mean? Was Kageyama…was he actually admitting that he liked having Hinata around? Or was he overthinking things?

“What?” he says, rather intelligently.

“Everyone likes you. Somehow. Everyone’s smiling when they’re around you. You boost morale. Like a mascot.”

 _Ugh_. Did Kageyama know that he had no brain to mouth filter? But that being said, Hinata was sure there was a compliment hidden somewhere in there, so maybe it wasn’t all bad. If he’s reading the situation right, maybe he can…

“Except Tsukishima,” he says.

“What?”

“Tsukishima. He doesn’t like me.”

Kageyama grimaces. “Tsukishima doesn’t like anyone. And who cares if he doesn’t like you. He’s a crappy person anyway.”

That startles a giggle out of Hinata, which is weird, because it’s not like he hasn’t heard Kageyama bitch about Tsukishima before. Maybe it’s just the idea that they’re bonding over their shared dislike of the giant setter. God, he feels like such a girl, giggling stupidly over a crush. Kageyama stops then and Hinata looks up, confused and slightly mortified. Oh, no, did he make things weird? He opens his mouth to say something, apologize maybe – but for what? – and then he notices where they’ve stopped.

Ah. They’ve reached the nurse’s office.

Kageyama leans down to help Hinata’s legs to the floor, setting him down as gently as he can manage.

Then they’re standing there in the hall, Hinata with his arms still around his neck and Kageyama with one arm still around his waist. Once again, Hinata is close enough to see himself reflected against Kageyama’s eyes. With the height difference, he has to crane his neck up to see him, but it doesn’t matter really. This is the closest he’s ever been to Kageyama. To his eyes.

To his lips.

“What about you?” he asks. He’s so close that he doesn’t have to talk very loudly. Its barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Tanaka and Noya and Suga and Daichi and the others like me,” says Hinata, and he lets the comment hang in between them for a moment. Kageyama seems to catch the implication, eyes widening slightly. He’s been found out.

“What about you?”

It’s like coaxing a wild animal trying to get an answer out of him.

And maybe he would’ve gotten an answer out of him if the nurse’s office door hadn’t opened then.

They’re immediately startled out of the moment, Kageyama yanking his arm from around Hinata’s waist, and Hinata reclaiming his own arms from around the setter’s neck.

“Can I help you boys?” asks the nurse, smiling warmly at them as if she hadn’t just ruined a crucial moment in Hinata’s quest to finally get a straightforward answer out of Kageyama.

Kageyama helps him hobble into the nurse’s office, minding the placement of his hands more significantly now, and as Hinata explains their reason for being there to the nurse, he finds he already misses the stolen moment beyond the door.

 

 

“A sprain?”

The nurse smiles. “Just a sprain, that’s all. You should be back on your feet in about a week.”

Hinata breathes out, leaning back on his hands. That was a relief. A glance snuck in Kageyama’s direction, and he sees the setter’s shoulders slump in relief as well. It’s infuriating that Hinata doesn’t know whether he’s just relieved that his decoy isn’t broken, or if he was actually worried about Hinata’s well-being.

“Just remember to ice it and keep it elevated,” continues the nurse. Hinata’s remembers the drill from when he was first starting volleyball; rest, ice, compression, elevation, all that jazz.

“Help him get back safe, won’t you?” says the nurse, and she’s looking at Kageyama this time. He looks kind of startled to be addressed, or maybe he’s just surprised that the nurse would trust him of all people to get Hinata back to practice in one piece. Hinata stifles a giggle behind his hand, and Kageyama shoots him a look.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells the nurse. He says it with such sincerity that it kind of throws Hinata for a loop.

“Are you gonna carry me again?” Hinata asks once they’ve left the office. He’s leaning against Kageyama, arms a little too short to reach around his shoulders.

Kageyama shrugs. “Maybe if you weren’t so heavy.”

“I’m not! You weigh a ton more than I do, and I can’t even really walk!”

Kageyama glares at him, and any other time Hinata would’ve been putting as much distance between himself and Kageyama – or rather his hands – as he could. But he kind of wants to see how far he can get with being this close, this intimate with him. So he holds his glare, albeit with less heat behind it.

They eye each other up, way longer than necessary for two sane people, and for a moment, Hinata’s resolve wavers. Maybe saying something would be easier instead of all this awkward waiting around.

But then Kageyama sighs, rolls his eyes and stoops down.

Hinata blinks.

Hm. Wasn’t expecting…whatever _this_ was.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you want me to carry you or not?” snaps Kageyama. “Climb on. I’m not carrying you in my arms again; I wasn’t joking when I said you were heavy.”

Hinata huffs, but hoists himself up onto Kageyama’s back. It takes some maneuvering, trying to move around with Hinata’s sprained ankle, but they manage it, and then Kageyama is starting back towards the gym.

“You’ll have to tell Ukai,” says Kageyama after a few minutes of silence, “that you can’t play.”

Hinata frowns. “I know. But it’s only for a little bit.”

The silence returns, tense and full of unsaid things. It doesn’t seem like either of them are going to say anything, one waiting for the other to speak. Hinata can already see that they’ve lost a lot of the progress that had come from before they reached the nurse’s office. Well, he needed a break before he tried again. Trying to convey feelings was hard work, and he wasn’t exactly used to doing it. So he lets the silence take its course and tries to make the world make sense again.

“Thanks,” Hinata murmurs. It’s been a few minutes now. He’s been watching the world slink by through the windows in the hallway, following the lazy meander of clouds across the sky with his eyes. Kageyama turns his head, brushing his hair across Hinata’s cheek.

“For what?”

“Carrying me.”

He feels Kageyama’s shoulders tense; no doubt he’s caught him off guard with his gratitude. They were both still so accustomed to barbed insults and snide remarks from each other; it was going to take some getting used to when they actually decided to be polite.

Kageyama nods. “It’s nothing.”

Hinata melts against him as much as he dares. “It isn’t.”

If Kageyama hears him, he doesn’t respond.

 

 

It occurs to Hinata that he has no way of getting home.

He’s staring at his bike, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he dreads the idea of pushing his bike all the way home with a sprained ankle. _Why_ did he live on such a steep hill?

“Oh, right! You bike to school, don’t you?” says Suga coming up behind him. He places his hands on his hips and stares at the bike in thought. “That could be a problem. You don’t have anyone who could come and get you?”

Hinata shrugs. “My parents don’t drive, that’s why I ride my bike everywhere. But I can walk it up the hill, it’s no problem.”

Suga gives him a withering look and opens his mouth to say something, when Tskukishima pipes up from out of nowhere, “Have your noble steed Kageyama carry you home.”

Hinata is pretty sure his face flushes as red as his hair in record time; he can feel the blush all the way down to his toes. He knows he’s trying to say something, some kind of witty comeback or denial, but all he can hear is Tsukishima laughing at the scrambled squawking noises he’s making.

“Don’t worry,” Suga assures him, trying to make himself heard over Tsukishima’s catcalls. “We’ll figure something out.”

Someone moves out of the corner of Hinata’s eye: Kageyama, leaving the gym with his bag in tow. He looks up like he knows he’s being watched and meets Hinata’s gaze across the short distance, and then he’s moving again. It takes Hinata a moment to realize he’s actually walking towards him, and he finds himself really hoping that Kageyama hadn’t heard anything that had just transpired; it was already weird enough between them as it was.

Kageyama stops close enough in front of him that the toes of their shoes are barely touching and something stirs in Hinata’s stomach. The nurse’s office takes front and center in his mind, and now he’s hyper-aware of the close proximity they’re sharing. He swallows, suddenly feeling small – well, smaller than usual.

“Um…”

“Are you stupid?”

… _well_.

Hinata stares blankly at Kageyama, processing what he’s just heard. “What?”

Kageyama flicks his wrist at the bike by Hinata’s side. “If you try to ride home, you’ll make the sprain worse. What are you thinking?”

Hinata recoils, bristling. “I wasn’t going to – I wasn’t – shut up!”

“Well how else were you planning to get home?” demands Kageyama. Hinata glares at him, stewing in silence, because he doesn’t really have an answer. As he’s recently become more and more aware of, Kageyama tends to do that to him sometimes; leaving him speechless and all.

He swears he has no idea how he ever found him attractive.

Kageyama rolls his eyes and hooks his bag over his shoulder. “Okay, we’ll do it like this,” he says. He taps the bicycle seat. “Get on the bike, and I’ll push. Don’t pedal, or you might strain your ankle.”

Hinata’s been counting: this makes three times today Kageyama has gone out of his way to help him. Even if each accommodation has been coupled with a catty remark about Hinata’s intelligence – or lack thereof –  it was still just as amazing the third time as it was the first. But maybe Hinata’s been staring for too long, because Kageyama reaches up,  wraps his hand around Hinata’s skull and squeezes.

“What are you looking at? Did you understand or not? I’m trying to help you out.”

Hinata squeaks and bats at the hand tangled in his hair. “Okay, okay, I got it! Let go!”

He awkwardly squirms onto the bike and immediately grabs onto the handlebars. It’s weird being on the bike without having his feet to steady him, and he wobbles a little until Kageyama steadies him with his hands on the grips.

Hinata can feel him breathing over his shoulder, and, for, like, the fourth time this afternoon, he’s quickly reminded of the quiet moment back in front of the nurse’s office. And because he’s Hinata and isn’t good in tense situations, he babbles, “If you keep this up, I might start thinking you aren’t actually a creep,” and immediately inwardly cringes, because what the hell was he even thinking?

Kageyama shoves him for that, but he doesn’t say anything more.

Small victory.

On the way home, Hinata keeps conversation with the rest of the team like nothing ever changed, even swings his feet a little on the bike. The entire time, though, he gets the feeling of eyes on him, glued to the back of his head like he’s being watched. Intently so. It takes every bit of his willpower not to turn around to meet them and keep going on like he hasn’t noticed. There is simply no room for awkward eye-contact or conversation after his word vomit from earlier.

But with this close contact it’s kind of inevitable.

The group stops off at Ukai’s shop as usual, and Daichi buys them pork buns. Of course, Ukai yells at them to stop eating just pork buns and go home to have a real dinner, but Hinata sees him smile as they split up the buns and thank him for practice and the food.

Hinata bites into his bun and chews slowly, savors the smoky sweet barbeque flavor before he swallows. Further up ahead, Tanaka and Noya are trying to sneak bites off of Asahi’s bun, causing a ruckus, and behind them, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are walking shoulder to shoulder, no doubt mumbling snide comments about the trio under their breaths. It’s a moment that oozes camaraderie, easily the best part of Hinata’s days. But as these moments tended to go, Hinata is only too aware of Kageyama behind him.

He takes another bite of his bun, chewing complacently, when a thought hits him.

“Oh!” Daichi had handed him the bag with their pork buns earlier; there was still one more inside. He fishes it out from the bottom and fiddles one-handed with the wrapper until he can get it open, then twists in his seat and offers the bun to Kageyama. “I forgot. Sorry; I can hold it for you while you push.”

He tries to ignore the fact that Kageyama had been actively looking at him when he’d turned around, and instead takes in the obvious surprise on his face. It’s a nice contrast to the usual apathy and blatant anger.

“Come on, I know you’re hungry,” says Hinata, cheekily shaking the bun.

“Don’t rush me,” Kageyama hisses. Regardless, he takes a bite, a vicious, reckless looking thing that tears a good chunk out of the entire bun. Hinata stifles a laugh behind his hand only to immediately lose his balance and return his grip to the handlebars.

There’s a sound in the air then, just barely audible, but Hinata swears it sounds like laughter. He doesn’t turn around. He’s kind of scared to look.

“Thanks,” Kageyama mumbles, having finished chewing his piece of pork bun. Once again, Hinata has no idea how to handle gratitude or anything remotely positive from Kageyama, and blurts out, “Oh, a ‘ _thanks’_ from the great Kageyama-kun; I’ll treasure it forever.”

“What if I just steered you into a telephone pole?”

Despite the threat, Hinata finds himself laughing anyway.

Between offering Kageyama bites of the pork bun and talking to the others, it feels like the walk to the intersection where the group breaks apart is too short. The third years leave first, saying their goodbyes over their shoulders as they disappear down the road, and then the rest of the second and first years follow behind. “Take care of that ankle,” calls Nishinoya at the same time Tsukishima shouts, “Don’t crash the bike, god forbid you make me happy.”

Hinata scowls after him and tells him to shove it.

Its only once the buzz of laughter wears off and the sound of the spring breeze rustling through the trees is all that’s left, that Hinata realizes he’s alone with Kageyama again. It takes another couple of minutes of him not recognizing the street they’re on or any of the houses lining the road to realize –

“Where are we?”

“This is my neighborhood,” says Kageyama simply.

A jolt spikes up Hinata’s spine and he whirls around to face him. Kageyama is still watching the road ahead of them.

“What? Why?”

“I’m not pushing you all the way home, dumbass! That’ll take forever,” and then, because the universe just _loves_ fucking with Hinata, Kageyama adds, “You can stay over at my house, and then figure something out in the morning, I guess. It’ll be easier than trying to get home in the middle of the night.”

Hinata can barely make out the hint of a blush in the pale light of the streetlamps, and he hopes that his own serious flush isn’t too obvious. “I…Um…”

God, they’re both entirely too awkward for this sort of thing.

“Just call your parents or something, and tell them you’re staying over,” mumbles Kageyama.

Hinata shakes his head, like he can shake the surprise off of his face. “What – what about your parents? Won’t they think it’s weird that I’m there?”

And, _wow_ , does Kageyama’s face color something fierce. “What, like I don’t have friends or something?”

 _Jesus_ , were they just the worst at communicating or what?

“No, like, I mean – I _meant_ – like, won’t it be weird that I didn’t call first?” stammers Hinata. “It’s kinda rude to just show up unannounced like that, isn’t it?”

At least some of the anger clears from Kageyama’s face then, and he looks away. “It’s fine,” he grumbles. “It’s not like I never have friends stay over.”

Hinata almost comments that someone with Kageyama’s scary face and overly-serious demeanor having any friends to have over at his house was a surprise, but bites down on his lip and keeps quiet.

“Okay,” he says instead. They pass under another streetlamp and Hinata watches the light wash over them and the bike slowly exit the pool of light on the ground back into the night. The tension dissipates as the darkness fills in.

“Thanks.”

Kageyama huffs audibly behind him. “It’s no big deal.”

A chord strikes in Hinata’s core.

“You keep saying that,” he says, looking up to meet Kageyama’s face in the dark. It’s not dark enough that he can’t make out his features without the streetlamp, and he knows the instant Kageyama’s eyes meet his.

“Like it’s not a big deal when you actually do something nice. Why can’t you just take the compliment?”

“It’s ‘gratitude’, not a compliment,” says Kageyama, but Hinata is past the point of listening. He’s got to get this of his chest now. He’s been dodging this all day; if he runs from it anymore he’ll probably scream.

“Whatever, that’s not the point. It _is_ a big deal. It’s really cool when you do nice things for me. It’s really…” Hinata breathes in deep and braces himself, “really nice. Like you actually like me. It’s nice when we’re not shouting at each other and fighting and stuff. Like we’re friends.”

He holds Kageyama’s gaze as best he can, even as he feels his body start to shake with nerves. _Oh gosh, he was going all in on this, then._

“And we are friends, right? At least…I thought we were. And friends do nice things for each other all the time, and it feels good for both of them when they thank each other for it. And I want to make you feel good-“

_Holy shit, that came out wrong, but there’s no stopping this train now._

“-because…” Hinata swallows hard and the silence of the night rings in his ears, “because you make me feel good.”

Hinata clenches his jaw and bravely maintains eye-contact with Kageyama; he has never been so thankful for the absence of the streetlamp’s light, because he’s not sure he could handle really seeing the full brunt of the expression on Kageyama’s face.

There’s silence spanning between them, drawing out long and thin like a string pulled too tight. The bike has stopped, has been stopped since the beginning of Hinata’s outburst, so all of Kageyama’s attention is now focused solely on him. He swallows, part of his brain trying to find words to make the situation less weird for both of them – Kageyama isn’t responding, but it doesn’t take the silence for Hinata to know he’s said too much – but nothing ever comes.

Not until he hears Kageyama snort.

Then he’s laughing, quiet at first, then louder like he’s suddenly gotten used to the idea. It feels like any moment, the top of Hinata’s skull is going to split open and steam will billow everywhere, because _wow, this was not what he was expecting_. It’s kind of a double-edged sword; he likes seeing Kageyama laughing so freely, wants to see it more often, but on the other hand, Hinata hadn’t actually said anything remotely humorous, so what exactly was he supposed to be laughing at?

In the time it takes Hinata to wrap his head around the foreign subject of a laughing Kageyama, the setter has already quietened down enough to speak properly, although there’s still some giggle in his voice.

“Is that really your idea of flirting?”

Hinata draws a blank. Like, he’s pretty sure his brain just whites out for a moment.

“What?”

“You really don’t know how to talk to people, do you?” says Kageyama, and the _audacity_.

“You’re one to talk!” stammers Hinata, and he’s not necessarily angry, just high-wired on a weird cocktail of embarrassment and panic. “It’s not like you could do any better!”

“Stop shouting, you’ll wake the neighbors,” hisses Kageyama in an effort to keep his own voice down. Hinata looks away, face still steaming, and flinches when he hears Kageyama laughing again, softer this time. The bike shifts slightly as Kageyama leans forward, putting the brunt of his weight against the handlebars.

“How long have you been practicing that?” he asks, and Hinata can practically hear the smug smile on his face. “Not long, probably, because it still sounded pretty awkward.”

Ugh. Hinata was used to Kageyama’s teasing by now, but it was way worse and way scarier now that he had let spill some pretty personal things – he remembers the time he accidentally served the ball into the back of Kageyama’s head, and adds this entire shitstorm of an evening to the scariest moments of his life, because now, Kageyama having personal thoughts to lord over him was the epitome of a nightmare.

“Can you just…forget I said anything?” asks Hinata, and at this point he’s not above begging, because seriously, this was the worst. Just the worst.

The shift in the atmosphere is almost tangible then. Kageyama isn’t laughing anymore, isn’t even looking at Hinata. He’s looking away, almost like he’s…ashamed?

“If you want to,” he mutters, then he’s schooled his face and is back to pushing the bike. Hinata jostles at the sudden lurch, but he can’t turn back around in his seat, eyes set on Kageyama. What even happened there, he has no idea. He’s not even going to pretend he understands the guy at this point, because it seems like Kageyama’s done nothing but throw him for loop after loop the entire afternoon.

He feels a headache coming on.

Great.

 

 

Kageyama’s house is not what Hinata expected.

Like, it’s a normal house, yes, but…Hinata isn’t actually sure what he expected. Maybe for Kageyama’s parents to be equally as scary as Kageyama himself. But his mother is petite and can smile like a normal human being and his father, though his eyes are more like Kageyama’s – in that they’re hard and deep blue like chips of the sea – he’s much warmer right off the bat.

They’re in the kitchen when Kageyama helps Hinata through the front door. Kageyama’s mother greets them from where she’s washing dishes. “Tobio! Welcome home! Who’s your friend?”

Hinata straightens up from where he’s leaning against Kageyama. “I’m Hinata Shoyo,” he chirps. “I’m Kageyama’s teammate.”

“Really?” says his mother. Kageyama’s father whistles from where he’s sitting at the kitchen table. “It’s been a while since Tobio brought any of his school friends over. You said you’re his teammate? How’s that?”

“It’s great! I mean, sometimes we don’t get along and we fight a lot, but Kageyama’s amazing! He’s a genius; we do this quick serve, and when he serves it to me its like _woosh_ ,” Hinata throws his hands into the air to illustrate, “and then I spike it like _wham_ , and its great! I wouldn’t be able to do it without him.”

Kageyama’s parents look surprised, probably after watching Hinata’s ecstatic hand-waving, and Hinata can feel how rigid Kageyama is against him. But his mother smiles and says, “That’s good to hear. It’s nice to know that Tobio has a friend who thinks so highly of him.”

She might’ve said more, if Kageyama hadn’t cut in then with, “It’s okay if Hinata stays over tonight, right? He sprained his ankle at practice today and he lives on a big hill, so I thought he could stay here until tomorrow.”

“Oh, sure!” says Kageyama’s mother. “It’s no trouble. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so your father or I can drive him home in the morning.”

Kageyama nods, and nudges Hinata’s shoulder. “This way,” he nods his head down the hallway. “My rooms back there.”

“Okay,” Hinata turns back to Kageyama’s parents. “Thank you very much for letting me stay tonight!”

“I mean it, it’s no trouble,” says Kageyama’s mother, waving him off. “I’ll bring some English salt in a moment. Tobio, you know where the spare futon is, right? Oh, I should probably make an extra plate; give me a moment and I’ll heat up some food. Are you boys hungry?”

“We ate already, mom,” Kageyama calls back. He’s already started herding Hinata down the hall.

“Your parents are really nice,” says Hinata. He grins conspiratorially. “How’d you get to be such a sourpuss?”

“Because I have to put up with the likes of you constantly,” Kageyama growls. They stop at door at the end of the hall and Kageyama shifts Hinata’s weight slightly to open it and flick the light on.

Kageyama’s room is pristine and white. The bed is made, not very immaculately, but well enough that it looks as though effort was put into it. the desk is clean, the books lining it are neatly stacked against the wall. There’s a dumbbell lying on the floor by the chair. The calendar on the wall over the trashcan has the days marked out in red marker with notes in black pen scrawled underneath. Its actually…very Kageyama.

Kageyama drops his bag by the door and puts Hinata’s next to it.

“This is nice,” hums Hinata.

“Did you expect something else?” Kageyama snaps.

Hinata shrugs, still looking around the room. “Not really. It matches.” He twists in Kageyama’s grip then. “Hey, is it cool if I take a shower? I feel gross and I don’t want to sleep in clean sheets if I haven’t showered.”

It’s crazy how Hinata has gotten used to the unimpressed looks that Kageyama gives him. “You can’t stand in the shower. You can take a bath.”

“That works too. I haven’t had a bath in a while; that’s supposed to be relaxing right?”

“How should I know?”

“You haven’t been to a bathhouse before?”

“Have _you_?”

“No,” Hinata nibbles on his lower lip. “We should go! Like, you and me and Noya and Tanaka and everyone.”

Kageyama helps him into the room next to his. It’s a bathroom, probably Kageyama’s, judging by the cleanliness and pristine look of it. “That would be…cool,” Kageyama says quietly. Hinata grins. Once more, small victories.

Kageyama leaves him by the sink and fixes him with a look. “Sit. I’ll start the water. You’d probably find some way to fall into the tub or something.”

Hinata stuck his tongue out at him, but hopped onto the edge of the sink. The pipes rattle as the water rushes through them, filling the ensuing silence.

“And, um…thanks,” Kageyama mumbles, just loud enough to be heard over the running water.

Hinata stops swinging his feet over the sink. “For what?”

Kageyama keeps his back to him. “You didn’t have to say all of that. To my parents, you know.”

“What, about you being amazing? Why not? I was telling the truth.”

Kageyama’s shoulders tense, but he still murmurs out another, “still…thanks.”

The bathroom fills with the sound of running water. Occasionally, Kageyama stirs the water with his hand, considers the temperature, and turns the knob to adjust it accordingly. The air becomes humid, just heavy enough with condensation that the entire room is warm, but not hot enough to steam the mirror. Hinata wiggles out of his shirt just as Kageyama turns the water off and looks up just in time to see what looks suspiciously like Kageyama looking away with such a quickness that it looks like it gives him whiplash.

“Ah, Kageyama, help me down, would you?” says Hinata, making grabby hands.

Kageyama flinches like he’s been shocked, but he wipes his hands on his shorts, nods and turns to help. His hands hover over Hinata like he’s scared of touching him, and a jolt goes through him when Hinata reaches out and grabs onto his shoulders. His hands immediately fall on Hinata’s waist, just in time to catch him as he hops off of the sink. Despite that, Hinata succeeds in jostling his sprained ankle, and winces audibly.

“Are you okay?” says Kageyama, and it will never stop being weird when Kageyama shows concern. Hinata nods, adjusting his ankle.

Offhandedly, Hinata notes that Kageyama’s hands are warm. For some reason.

“Yeah, I’m….”

When he looks up, he meets Kageyama’s eyes, and a flood of deja-vu washes over him. For the second time today, he’s reminded of the nurse’s office.

He never did get an answer.

“I…um…” Kageyama stammers, and _wow_ , Kageyama is actually unsure of what to say.

“Yeah,” says Hinata. He has no idea what they’re doing -what they’re trying to do – but they must be making some kind of progress from the trainwreck of a conversation they’d had in the street.

Kageyama’s face is tinted pink; maybe from the warmth of the bathroom, but some part of Hinata wants it to be for the same reason that Hinata can feel the tips of his ears heating up.

He can see his reflection against Kageyama’s dark eyes; they’re close. Really close. Close enough that if he wanted to, Hinata could –

Hinata falls back against the edge of the sink when Kageyama shoves him away and just barely catches himself before he clips the corner of the counter with his spine. He looks up, fully intent on giving Kageyama a well-deserved earful, when something moves in the corner of his vision.

Kageyama’s mother has opened the door, suddenly shuffling in with a bundle in her hands.

“Sorry,” she’s saying, “I knocked, but no one answered, so I came in. I brought you some towels, Shoyo. And some English salt; you should soak your ankle in it, it’ll help with the soreness.”

She looks up after she’s placed the towels and salt on the counter and continues like nothing ever happened, “Tobio, let him borrow an old shirt and some of your shorts. They might be a little long on you, Shoyo…”

“O-oh. That’s okay; really,” Hinata assures her. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he’s pretty sure his face is as red as his hair. He wondered how long she’d been there; maybe not long. She hadn’t let on that she’d seen anything.

When he tunes back into the conversation, Tobio is assuring his mother that he’ll lay out the spare futon while Hinata cleans up. When she seems satisfied, she smiles and wishes them both a good night, then closes the door.

Both boys sigh in relief. Hinata sags against the edge of the sink. “That was…”

Kageyama grunts in agreement. “Yeah.” He looks away. “I keep forgetting that your name is Shoyo. I’m so used to ‘Hinata’.”

Hinata looks up quickly, feels his face prickle, then directs his gaze to their feet. “I mean, you could, like…you could call me ‘Shoyo’.”

Kageyama starts, like he’s shocked Hinata is talking to him. He looks like he might say something, and Hinata leans forward just a slight bit in anticipation.

Then Kageyama sets his jaw and stalks to the door. “I’m gonna go find something for you to wear. Be careful getting into the bathtub.”

Hinata frowns, and leans back against the sink. Well, shit.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. God, they were getting nowhere.

Kageyama wrenches the door open, probably with a little more force than necessary, but stops just before he can walk over the threshold. He pauses.

“’Shoyo’, huh?”

Hinata looks up. Kageyama doesn’t turn to look at him.

“’Sunlight’,” he says quietly. Then he nods softly. “It fits.”

Then he’s gone.

 

 

It takes some maneuvering, especially to get his shorts off, but Hinata finally gets into the tub. The water is pleasantly warm – Hinata likes really hot water, himself – and he instantly melts into it with an audible sigh. He slides down deep under the water, drawing his knees up to do so, until it comes just under his nose.

His ankle already feels better, and he can feel his muscles relaxing. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. It made sense; today had been…rough. Maybe if he and Kageyama weren’t so stubborn it might’ve turned out better. If they could just get over their awkwardness and communicate like normal human beings, they wouldn’t be constantly thwarted by the universe in their attempts to get their feelings out.

Feelings, plural.

Hinata’s pretty sure Kageyama at least feels something positive for him. Maybe, if he’s lucky, just as ashamedly _in like_ with Hinata as Hinata is for him. Throughout the day, Kageyama had always seemed to be touching him, and even when he could’ve let go, he hadn’t. And if Hinata went with that theory, then Kageyama seemed to make it his mission to always be touching him. Whether it was grabbing Hinata’s head and threatening to squeeze it until it popped, or really subtle things like how they always managed to be sitting next to each other during practice, so close that their legs brushed against each other. So maybe the former wasn’t the most romantic argument in the world, but Hinata remembers his mother telling him back when he was in elementary school that girls were mean to you because they liked you.

It was a stretch, but maybe that was just how it was for the both of them. Maybe that was just their language. Their own weird, warped sweet talk.

And he still has no idea what Kageyama was going to say at the nurse’s office or just now before his mom came in, but he hopes it was something along the lines of a confession.

Hinata hums in thought. He should probably get cleaned up; Kageyama probably wanted to shower too.

He soaps up, taking a reasonable time to get clean, and pauses when he gets to his hair. The shampoo bottle is sitting mostly-full on the side of the tub. Hinata pops open the cap and sniffs; coconut and hibiscus.

Ah.

Hinata squeezes a dollop of shampoo into his hands and slips under the water to wet his hair. He shampoos quickly. Part of him thinks its kind of pathetic that he’s so into this guy that he wants to carry the scent of his _shampoo_ with him, but the other half really doesn’t care. If nothing else, it at least smells really nice. While he’d been under the water, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, Kageyama must’ve come in; when he resurfaces, there’s a shirt and a pair of shorts folded next to the towels and packet of English salt.

Hinata manages to get himself out of the tub with little incident, gets the towel around his waist and tosses the salt into the leftover bathwater. Tiny rivulets of water drip down his neck and spine as he sits on the edge of the tub, soaking his ankle into the salt water. It smells like lavender.

He sighs.

He’s in deep.

 

 

Kageyama is waiting outside the door when Hinata dries off and gets dressed.

Kageyama’s shirt is practicaly hanging off of Hinata, just barely holding onto his shoulder, dipping low under his collarbone. The shorts are long too, draping over his knees. It’s fine; its kind of comfortable, really.

“Did you use my shampoo?” Kageyama asks. Hinata’s leaning against Kageyama’s side as they limp the short distance from the bathroom to Kageyama’s room. He’s close enough to be able to smell the scent of coconut and hibiscus wafting from Hinata’s hair.

“Yeah. Smells good.” Hinata shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Kageyama hums. “Its whatever.”

He’s set out a futon on the floor by his bed, and the covers are pulled back, almost like an invite. He helps Hinata down onto it, where Hinata gratefully sprawls across the top, not even bothering with the blankets.

“Ah! I didn’t even realize how tired I was!” he sings. He sighs gratefully and then blinks up at where Kageyama is rummaging through his drawers.

“I’m gonna go shower. Don’t touch anything,” Kageyama murmurs.

“Okay, _mom_. Geez, I’m not a little kid in the grocery store,” Hinata grumbles.

Kageyama looks back at him with an unamused look. “You look like the kind of person who pokes around in other people’s things.”

Hinata sits up in indignation. “What? No way! I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

“Could have fooled me,” Kageyama shrugs on his way out of the room.

He’s gone before Hinata even gets a word in edgewise. Hinata huffs and flops back on the futon, sighing and sending a tuft of his bangs fluttering up from his face. He really hopes that he’s right about the whole teasing thing.

He can hear the shower running in the bathroom, and even though its soothing enough, he can’t find it in himself to fall asleep; there’s just too much on his mind.

Instead, he folds his arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. Then he counts the number of days on the calendar on the wall. He gets to his feet and limps to his bag by the door, digs out his phone. He’d completely forgotten to call his parents to tell them that he was staying with a friend. His mother thanks him for calling, tells him to have fun at Kageyama’s house, then wishes him a good night and they end the call. By the time he’s done, carrying his phone back to the futon, Kageyama is coming back from the shower, running a towel through his hair. He looks only mildly surprised to see Hinata standing there.

“What are you doing up?” 

There was definitely an audible eyeroll there. Hinata shrugs and holds up his phone. “I forgot to call my mom.” He pauses, toying with the phone. “She, um…she said to tell you that she appreciates you doing this.”

Kageyama’s face flushes and he tugs at the towel around his shoulders. “It’s not a big deal – “ Kageyama stops himself, glances up at Hinata, then looks away. “It’s fine.”

He shuffles towards his bed, and drops down heavily on the edge of it. He tosses the towel to the side and massages his shoulder.

Hinata feels his face prickle with flush. “And, um, you probably already know it, but,” he immediately feels Kageyama’s gaze on him, “…um, thanks. For, y’know, helping me. You really are” – _amazing_ – “a good friend.”

Kageyama blinks. His cheeks are pink – he’s still, after everything the two of them have been through, not used to Hinata complementing him – and he looks like he might say nothing at all in return, but then he sighs.

He stands up, so quickly that Hinata startles a little, then reaches out, grabs Hinata by the waist and pulls him directly against his body.

 _Oh_.

Hinata doesn’t even realize that he’s been pulled directly into a kiss until its almost over. A million things are racing through his head, and he’s pretty certain his eyes are wide open; who kisses someone with their eyes open? And, wow, okay, does this mean Kageyama’s as into him as Hinata thinks he is? It must, because friends don’t kiss friends. And what kind of irony is it that Hinata’s first kiss is with the guy who had been his very first rival?

Kageyama pulls back, surprisingly gentle about it, about the whole kiss really, and stares at him. He looks like he’s waiting for Hinata to say something, to do something. Hinata isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say now either.

“Why did you sigh like that before? You scared me; did you just not want to kiss me?”

Probably not that.

“Dumbass. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want to,” deadpans Kageyama, as exasperated as ever with Hinata despite having just kissed him. “And what about you? You didn’t even do anything.”

“I was surprised! How was I supposed to know you were gonna kiss me? I wasn’t even sure you even liked me up until then,” Hinata says, flustered.

“Despite my better judgement,” says Kageyama, smug, and it really is times like these when Hinata is not even sure why he ever let himself be even remotely taken with Kageyama as a person.

“Well, I want to try again,” says Hinata indignantly. At the look of confusion that crosses Kageyama’s face, Hinata elaborates. “I wasn’t ready! That wasn’t fair.”

Hinata has to lean up slightly to reach. Kageyama snorts, and meets him halfway, and just like before, he’s surprisingly gentle. Hinata cranes into it, as much as he can without putting too much weight on his sprained ankle, spurred on when he feels Kageyama pull him steadily closer. This kiss is slightly clumsier, despite it being planned, and Hinata can’t keep up his balance for very long. Kageyama mercifully breaks away before Hinata’s ankle drops out from under him, and takes all of two seconds to catch his breath before he says, “You’re not supposed to be standing on that ankle.”

“Can you not ruin every moment we have?” Hinata replies exasperatedly. Regardless, he lets Kageyama help him down onto the futon.

“I’m going to bed,” says Kageyama as he straightens up. “You know where the bathroom is. Guess I’ll…see you in the morning. Or something.”

His face is slightly pink at the miniscule amount of domesticity in the statement.

Slightly awkward at the subject as well, Hinata replies, “Yeah, it’s not like I’m going to jump out the window and run off.” Kageyama glares at him for that one. He goes to turn off the lights, and the room plunges into darkness. Hinata can hear him shuffling back to bed, hears the covers rustle as he pulls them back and crawls under them, and then what maybe sounds like Kageyama rolling over, probably with his back to the rest of the room.

Hinata knows he just got onto the guy for spoiling moments, but he can’t resist poking fun at him. So just because he can, he giggles into the dark.

“You like me.”

“I’ll smother you.”

 

 


End file.
